


I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece

by Elisexyz



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Pre-OT3 if you like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 15:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: It wouldn’t be the first time that she wakes to alarming sounds, yet it takes her a while to register that what tore her away from her peaceful sleep sounded awfully close to a series of gunshots.





	I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the "Reopening old wounds" prompt [on my Badthingshappenbingo card on Tumblr](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/179153430054/reopening-an-old-wound-fill-for-the-bad-things).

It wouldn’t be the first time that she wakes to alarming sounds, yet it takes her a while to register that what tore her away from her peaceful sleep sounded awfully close to a series of gunshots.

Flynn was faster to react: when Lucy finally realizes what she heard, he has already grabbed his gun and he’s ready to jump off bed, as if they hadn’t been peacefully tangled with the covers a mere _minute_ ago.

“Stay behind me,” he orders, handing her a second gun and gesturing with his head to follow him, his expression obviously rattled even if the darkness doesn’t allow her to take a careful look at his features.

She nods, half-heartedly thinking that she’d much rather lock herself up in their room because she has already seen enough gunfights to last a _lifetime_ , really, but she gets up and prepares to follow suit, because a louder part of her isn’t really happy with the thought of leaving Flynn to deal with whatever this is alone.

It’s only when they have already stepped out of the bedroom that it occurs to her that they aren’t alone in the house. Her eyes dart to the guest room, where Wyatt has been sleeping with his kid, only to find the door open and the bed very empty.

Her stomach sinks, and as she turns her eyes towards Flynn he glances at her too, with an expression that conveys pretty clearly that she’s not alone in her worry.

“Downstairs,” Flynn whispers, alerting her that it’s time to move. They probably should check all the upstairs rooms first, but she then notices that there’s a light in the living room.

They move quickly, guns raised, and Lucy entertains the very stupid thought that this is much more comfortable barefoot and in her pyjamas, instead of in period clothing – probably because focusing on what could possibly have happened to Wyatt and Sarah is going to send her down a spiral of panic, and nobody needs that, not now.

They hear Sarah’s familiar cries as they descend downstairs, and they are then welcomed by the sight of Wyatt, seemingly unharmed if you don’t count the sleep deprivation, trying to rock his baby back to sleep.

Lucy automatically lessens her hold on the gun, drawing a sigh of relief.

“Woah, hey—” Wyatt lets out, taking a step back when he notices them. “Alright, I didn’t mean to wake you but _that_ is a bit of an exaggeration—”

“The hell are you doing?!” Flynn demands, pointing his gun to the ground but without relaxing his stance.

“Trying to get Sarah to sleep?” Wyatt offers, frowning.

“We heard gunshots,” Lucy intervenes, before Flynn can shower him with insults – which he definitely is about to do, judging by how he’s vibrating with tension. She moves a step closer, her arm brushing against his.

“I turned on the TV,” Wyatt explains.

“It’s the _middle of the night_ ,” Flynn all but growls.

“ _Well_ , I didn’t know that it’d be at full volume on a shoot-out,” Wyatt bites back, and for a second Lucy feels like they are back to the bunker, with them butting heads and her stuck in the middle, only half-trusting that neither of them would kill the other and make it look like an accident.

Flynn doesn’t answer, muttering a couple of insults in what Lucy is pretty sure is not English. He glances at her for a moment before he starts eyeing all the windows, his fingers still clenching the gun and his face a shade too pale for her liking.

She still feels a bit messed up as well, that unpleasant feeling of being unsafe in her own home still lingering under her skin, but he seems to be taking it much harder, and it’s difficult to think that it has nothing to do with what happened the last time he woke up to gunshots in his house – they have talked about that night, a couple of times, and part of Lucy would really prefer to be able to unhear his story.

Wyatt seems to catch on as well. “Are you okay?” he asks, after a moment of hesitation. “You look one step away from passing out.”

Lucy moves an inch closer, placing one hand between Flynn’s shoulder blades before he can answer. “Maybe you could use a glass of water,” she suggests, gently, knowing that he’ll take the out only if he thinks he needs a couple of minutes on his own. 

He turns towards her, holding her gaze for a couple of seconds before nodding. “Yeah,” he mumbles, before heading towards the kitchen, gun still in hand and a bit unsure on his legs.

She’ll give him a couple of minutes, then she’ll go after him.

For now, she decides to set the gun on the first available piece of furniture she can find, approaching Wyatt and his – now blissfully calm – kid with a smile.

Wyatt’s frown hasn’t lessened, though. “Is he okay?” he asks again, gesturing to the kitchen with his head.

Lucy licks her lips, glancing at the open door as she contemplates what exactly she should share, before settling for: “He just took a scare.”

Wyatt sets his jaw, his expression pretty understanding because after all he shares many of Flynn’s nightmares. “That all?”

Lucy hesitates. “The last time he woke up to gunshots in the middle of the night was—” she decides to add, her eyes drifting to Sarah as she tries to find a good way to finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to, because in a couple of seconds Wyatt’s eyes lighten up in understanding.

“Oh— _shit_. I didn’t— shit.”

“It’s okay,” Lucy quickly says, finding it difficult to stay silent in front of the blatant guilt on his face. “You didn’t do it on purpose, and he just needs a minute.”

Wyatt swallows, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he eyes the door. “Can you hold her for me for a second?” he finally asks. “I want to— uh, I’d like to apologize.”

Lucy hesitates, unsure if Flynn will appreciate the intrusion or not, but in the end she nods: after all, the two of them are pretty similar in many ways, maybe Wyatt can understand a bit of what he’s going through. And they are sort of friends by now, the days when they actually tried to kill each other are plenty far away.

She takes Sarah and watches as Wyatt heads to the kitchen, hoping that she didn’t just make a mistake.

 

 

“Uh, hey, Flynn,” Wyatt calls, as soon as he steps into the kitchen. _He_ surely wouldn’t want to be scared shitless by someone sneaking up on him, much less right after that someone gifted him one of the worst awakenings imaginable.

Flynn briefly turns towards him to acknowledge his presence. He lets go of the counter that he had been leaning on when Wyatt came in, moving to grab the bottle of water in front of him instead.

“Just getting something to drink,” he says. The gun is laying barely an inch away from his hand, and Wyatt knows from personal experience that the fact that he hasn’t ditched it yet is not really a good sign.

Guilt twists his stomach some more, so much that he has to wonder if he’ll be able to eat anything ever again without throwing up. This is for sure the last time that he’ll turn on the TV in the middle of the night.

“Okay,” is the most intelligent reply that he can muster. Since he can’t seem to be able to come up with a proper apology yet, he settles for grabbing a glass and putting it on the counter, within reach.

Flynn mumbles a thank you and fills it with some water, even if it takes him a couple of seconds to steady his hand and not spill it everywhere.

Wyatt takes a deep breath. “Hey, look,” he finally begins, when Flynn is done drinking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry.” Yeah, that will do.

Flynn turns towards him, and his eyebrows shoot up, because apparently Wyatt hasn’t messed with his head enough not to make him a pretentious asshole. It’s actually kind of a relief. “It was an accident,” he simply says.

“I _know_ , I still feel like shit, so I am apologizing,” Wyatt rolls his eyes. “Just take it, man.”

Flynn scoffs, looking a bit amused by the whole thing, which, again, is surprisingly a relief. Truth is, he isn’t sure how well he’d deal with Flynn in the middle of a freak-out that would totally hit too close to home. Wyatt may never have lost a kid – thank _god_ , because the mere thought of something happening to Sarah builds panic in his chest –, but he did lose Jess, other than countless people on the battlefield, and sometimes when he wakes up it’s not that easy to leave behind his nightmares.

It’s not a good feeling, and he can’t shake off the guilt for pulling a friend back into one of his personal nightmares, if only by accident.

“Apology accepted,” Flynn finally allows.

Wyatt nods, hesitating for a moment before clasping his shoulder with one hand, squeezing for a few seconds before letting go and heading back towards the living room. Flynn follows a couple of seconds later.

 

They end up spending the rest of the night on the couch.

No one actually _says_ it, but Wyatt ends up sitting on the armchair, settled among a bunch of pillows and with Sarah safely sleeping in his arms, while Flynn sits on the couch and Lucy doesn’t waste much time before curling up against him, the way they used to even back when they were all still fighting Rittenhouse.

She drifts back into sleep first, her arm wrapped tightly around Flynn’s torso and a slight smile on her face that makes Wyatt’s heart ache with nostalgia.

Flynn doesn’t seem to have any intention of getting some shut eye, and Wyatt faintly thinks that he looks a bit creepy, sitting against the light coming from the kitchen – they left it on in silent mutual understanding – and watching all the entry points like a hawk.

“Nothing’s coming,” Wyatt ends up muttering, his eyelids heavy as he suppresses a yawn. “Just get some sleep, we’re fine here.”

Flynn scoffs a bit, but Wyatt doesn’t think that he’s teasing him.

“You’re right,” he says, shifting a bit so that he has a better hold on Lucy, who doesn’t stir. “Goodnight, Wyatt.”

“Night,” Wyatt replies, deciding that the acknowledgement is good enough for him and that he’d better get some sleep before Sarah decides to wake up again. They all really are fine, after all.


End file.
